


Magic Messenger

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, I tried a text format, John's sister is there too, John's very bi in this one as well, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 13





	Magic Messenger

It had been a few months since John had gotten 'Magic Messenger' due to a suggestion from his sister. He was busy half the week, as he _was_ a general practitioner. His shifts were long and tiring, but the fact he worked only half the days of usual people was great. He had been chatting up woman, in the end, most of them ended up leaving, so Harriet-Harry as she was called by her brother and many others, told him that maybe it was time for him to try something else. With great reluctance to lose his the little grey flag next to his profile picture, he went into ' _settings_ ' and selected ' _bi_.' He opened his eyes, he saw the next to the fairly mundane name he had, a small pink, purple, and blue flag.

' _Ding._ '

John opened his messaging app and spotted his sister's text.

_Messages:_

_< [You change it yet??]_

_[Yeah.] >_

_< [Well, good job. I guess]_

_[Thanks.] >_

John rolled his eyes. He opened his laptop, sitting in front of it for a couple of minutes, tapping his pen in his left hand a couple of times, to inaudible music.

He had to deal with his sister's rehab once in a while, which he did a few weeks ago, it left him chewing at the end of his pencil, a gnawing feeling of neverending cycles of phone-calls from the center.

' _Ding._ '

John glanced at his phone, not moving from his spot, though his hands itched for simulation. It was boring. He closed his eyes, leaving the room around him and into one of fantasy, where words spiraled out of a page. The hole that was forever deep, with cups of lemonade that stood on floating tables, scones that sat on plates, longing for release. A world where birds spoke German.

' _Ding._ '

John glared at it, turning to his laptop again.

' _Ding._ '

"Shut up!" He growled.

' _Ding_.'

John grabbed the phone and unlocked it. As he did, he saw the list of notifications that reigned his lock-screen.

_Magic Messenger:_

_[1 Match Found!]_

_Magic Messenger:_

_[1 Match Found!]_

_Magic Messenger:_

_[1 Match Found!]_

_Magic Messenger:_

_[1 Match Found!]_

John stared at it with his eyes widened, his fingers furiously tapped the top notification. There were four people apparently interested in him: Sarah Sawyer, Jeanette Rosser, Mary Morstan, and... _Sherlock Holmes_? John absentmindedly clicked on the person's profile. John stared at the profile picture for what seemed like years. The picture was of a light-skinned man with messy but silky dark curls, he wore a purples button-up and had pale blue eyes.

"Oh god," John muttered, sliding his face into his palms. The pale blue eyes were like ice crystals carved into the shape of a swan, elegant and sharp. The dark curls could beat the feathers of a raven, with a rich shine, purple and blue only to be seen under the moon.

After John's crisis, he went back to the other three profiles, accepting the matches, then, headed back to Sherlock's profile and did the same, with a slight admiration in his touch. He heard a ringing from his phone,

_Magic Messenger:_

_< [Hey, John, right?]_

_[Yeah, mundane name.] >_

_< [It says you're a general practitioner?]>_

_[Yeah.] >_

_< [Well, I'm a physician!]_

_[Oh.] >_

_[Really?] >_

_< [Yeah!]_

_< [Do you live anywhere near Speedy's?]_

_< [We could meet up there.]_

_[No, but I could always catch a cab.] >_

_< [Great!]_

Later that week, John had headed to Speedy's, which was a small sandwich and coffee café. He found Sarah in no-time. She wore a light yellow blouse with a black jacket over it. Her hair was a light sienna brown, which John found was quite beautiful, but when he ran his fingers through her hair, he thought of it as dark curls, elegant and- He shook his head.

Sarah and John ended up unmatching by the end of the third date, as John felt Sarah didn't love a dangerous game, she was too safe, too scared of chances. John blamed his military background for that, but not for anything else, because ex-army doctor defined his life.

So, with no tears, John moved on to Jeanette, who was a teacher, she had curly hair, but much to John's disappointment, it was a dark brown, rather than a beautiful shiny black. They went to a French restaurant, one with fancy wine glasses and candles, so John wore a grey suit and Jeanette came in a red dress.

The unmatching came after the second date when Jeanette said the two of them just ' _didn't work out_ ' and John just nodded to the statement. John sat in his flat, his eyes lingering on the window, where coloured lights illuminated through the window like a light show.

John stared at his phone, thinking about the two matches left. One was Mary, a nurse and one was... Sherlock Holmes. John could see the picture of him in his mind. The man was absolutely handsome. Maybe it was time to text Mary. He typed in his password and before he tapped on 'Mary Morstan,' he got another message from a different person.

_Magic Messenger:_

_< [It says you were an army doctor.]_

_[Um. Hi. Yeah.] >_

_< [Any good?]_

_[Very.] >_

John tilted his head, a small breath puffing out his mouth. Strange, the first words were these? What did he want?

_< [Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.]_

_[Yes...] >_

_< [Bit of trouble too, I bet.]_

John paused in his typing. Why was he asking this? John looked at the window in front of him, pursing his lips. He was way too intrigued for someone normal, then again, he wasn't.

_[Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.] >_

_[Why are you asking this?] >_

_[Not one for introductory small talk?] >_

_< [Small talk is mundane.]_

John could hear the deep voice of the man telling him that, the glance at him from his desk and the snarl at the thought of small talk.

_[Same for my name... but you still matched.] >_

_< [One's name doesn't describe their character.]_

_[I mean, I can say you're unique, not just from the name.] >_

_< [To most, 'unique' directed at me isn't a good thing.]_

_[What do you mean?] >_

_< [I can do this... thing.]_

_[Well, I also can do 'a thing.'] >_

_< [Ha ha. Very funny] _

_[Skill of mine.] >_

_< [Well, if you send a picture, I can deduce something.]_

_[Deduce?] >_

_< [My skill. Deduction]_

_[Oh.] >_

_< [A regular one, just you standing or sitting normally.]_

_[Why should I?] >_

_< [You asked.]_

_[You asked a question first.] >_

_< [Augh. I shouldn't have gotten this app.]_

_[Good afternoon to you too.] >_

_< [Hmm?]_

_[Sarcasm.] > _

_< [Oh.]_

_[ 'One file sent.']>_

_< [Hmm. Can you take a picture of the cell-phone you're holding?]_

_[Sure?] >_

_[ 'One file sent.']>_ _  
_

_< [Well, the phone, it's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but by the state of your clothing, worn, but well-fitted, and smaller flat, it's a gift, then. Quite strange for a general practitioner.]_

_< [Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. Another man wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner.]_

_[I really don't bother with new phones...] >_

_[No point buying a new one if an old one works just as well.] >_

_< [Then, if it's a gift, who's it from?]_

_< [Well, there's engraving.]_

_< [Harry Watson. From Clara. xxx]_

_< [Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone.]_

_< [Not your father; this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you were a war hero. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is.]_

_< [Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses say it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not a girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently - this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then - six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he'd have kept it. People do - sentiment. But no, he wanted to get rid of it.]_

_< [He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don't like his drinking.]  
_

_[How did you know of the drinking?] > _

_< [Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone; never see a drunk's without them.]_

John leaned back on his chair. He couldn't believe the paragraphs of words that appeared on his screen. This man ' _deduced_ ' Harriet's drinking without even meeting him. Though, there was something off.

_[You've met Harry...] >_

_< [Rather think I haven't. I swing the other way.]_

_[Like her.] >_

_< [Also, I'm not very social.]_

Time seemed to pause as John waited for Sherlock's reply, as the corner said 'typing,' he waited for another paragraph, instead, he got one word.

_< [Wait.]_

John raised an eyebrow.

_< [Harry's your sister!]_

_< [Sister!]_

John chuckled, he could hear the exasperation of Sherlock's voice from his own flat. He might've also imagined the man kicking a can on the streets and cursing at a rubbish-can, but that was another thing.

_[Even so, that ... was amazing.] > _

For another few minutes, Sherlock typed, but in the end, he got a short and somewhat disappointing reply, but this time, it was of disbelief rather than realization.

_< [Do you think so?]_

_[Of course it was. It was extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary.] >_

_< [That's not what people normally say.]_

Puzzled, the ex-army doctor replied with a questioning tone in his text. Why would anyone say something other than ' _amazing_?' If the man truly did it on his own, John would call him a genius.

_[What do people normally say?] >_

_< ['Piss off']_

John tried not to smile, but his face broke into a grin. What Sherlock say next had him almost off his seat, eyes widened with a large grin smeared onto his face.

_< [Well, I asked you if you had seen 'a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths' and maybe 'bit of trouble too.']_

_[Yes?] >_

_< [Would you like to see some more?] _

With a tingling feeling of adrenaline running down his back, John bit his lip.

_[Oh god yes.] >_

Sherlock sent him the address, which he headed towards on a cab, his hands fiddling with his jumper he replaced the suit with, it was a lot easier running in jeans and jumpers than a fancy suit. Jumping off the cab after he slipped money into the driver's hand, he found himself at the flat, where yellow tape created a border between the world and the hopefully bloody mess.

Then, he saw him.

"John Watson?" A deep voice asked. After John turned around, he realized how the voice that said his name was similar to what he sounded in his mind. Deep, silky, elegant. Like a raven's feather that fell from the skies. An angel's eyes.

"Sherlock Holmes?" John held out his hand, which Sherlock shook. The two gazed into each other's eyes for moments that would be counted by heartbeats.

"You're really good looking." John blurted out. Almost screeching like an owl and clamping his hand over his mouth. Sherlock chuckled, glancing around the area. The two stood in silence with goofy grins on their faces, though, Sherlock was on the look-out for someone bursting out the crime scene, screaming.

"Thank you. I can say the same for you." Sherlock winked. John gave a long glance at the man's outfit. He was in a long black coat and blue scarf, both very expensive looking. He had on a black suit with a white button-up under it. John felt as he were a child, dressed in jean overalls and a colourful hat standing next to a sharp-dressed businessman.

"Don't worry. When we go back, you can put on your suit."

"How-" John snapped his mouth shut.

"I observe, John," Sherlock said, smirking. John felt as if the smirk was his signature expression, which he didn't complain.

"You're ridiculous." John huffed.

"And you agreed to come." Sherlock pointed out. John sighed and could only shake his head, as Sherlock only said the truth. Sherlock smirked again with his raised head, straight back, and steady gaze.

_< [Could be dangerous] _

John looked up at Sherlock, who had his cell-phone in hand, his eyes widened again.

_[Is this a date?] >_

_< [Depends.]_

_[I'm pretty new to this side of relationships.] >_

_< [Then let me introduce you to 'this side' with an unforgettable experience.]_

John was looking forward to it.


End file.
